Tanabata
by TallerThanThou ShorterThanThou
Summary: The war's over-Ishida's taking care of Hollows now, Orihime doesn't wear her clips, Tatsuki's training under the Omnitsukido, Chad's still tall, Ichigo's...normal and Rukia's gone. Things are as normal as they'll ever be...and that's what worried them.
1. Festival

**August 6****th**

In one of my clearer earliest memories, I could distinctively recall the smooth feel of the silk yukata that Onii-san had miraculously produced. I'd been rubbing the elegantly drooped sleeves all evening, impatiently waiting my turn at the goldfish catching game. It was my first festival, and I was five. More specifically, it was the festival from which my name originated. _Orihime_. Orihime Inoue. Mother had named me Orihime because I was born on—or during the Tanabata Festival. In an abandoned warehouse, she'd gone into labor with my Onii-san as the midwife.

Onii-san always spoke in a hushed tone about Mother, as if scared of awakening the past that we'd so narrowly escaped.

A light tugging on my hand. I had looked up to see a tiny red dragonfly being offered to me.

_It's small enough for your fingers, Orihime-chan. _

I'd held out my pudgy hands then and solemnly accepted the insect. He? She?—it had walked all over my hands, causing me to burst into a fit of giggles. Then it flew away. I'd forgotten all about goldfish then, and chased after it. The scene is blurry after that until the fireworks started. I remembered that part clearly because Onii-san had been telling me the story of Orihime and Hikoboshi.

_The tale originated from China, _Onii-san had said.

_(Where's China?_ I asked.

_Far away._

_Can you tell the story now?)_

_It's called the Qi Xi there. Here, it's referred to as Orihime and Hikoboshi. Legend says that once upon a time, there lived a beautiful fairy princess called Orihime. Everyday, she weaved cloths for her father, the Tentei. The cloths she produced were so smooth and pretty, her father begged her to keep weaving for him, and so she did. Day and night, her nimble fingers fiddled with yarns on her loom. Pleased as she was to see her father's smiling face, Orihime was not happy. Weaving all day left little time for her to meet her prince. When she mentioned this to her father, he indulged her by arranging for her to meet Hikoboshi, who worked on the other side of the Amanogawa. The two quickly fell in love and married. However, after being married, Orihime could no longer weave for her father and Hikoboshi neglected his cow herds across the Amanogawa. Cows ran free and the loom gathered dust. Furious, the Tentei separated the lovers once more by throwing Hikoboshi across the Amanogawa. Once bright, the colors of Orihime's cloths turned dark in mourning, and she begged daily to meet her husband. Eventually, the Tentei caved to his daughter's despondent wails. He agreed to let the lovers meet on the seventh of the seventh month if she worked hard and finished her weaving. At first, there was no bridge for Orihime to cross the river. But the magpies felt sorry for her sadness and promised to make one for her. That's why when it rains on the day of the Festival, Orihime and Hikoboshi have to wait for another year to meet. _

_I'm glad it isn't raining_, I'd said seriously. The expression of such seriousness on a child's five year old face must have been amusing, because my Onii-san chuckled. His expression fell back into the serenity I had become accustomed with when he replied,

_As am I_.

We'd left shortly after that, before the time to hang wishes on the trees and to sing the song of Tanabata. Somewhere along the trek back to our house, I fell asleep.

(thisismylinedon'tmockitsinceit'sawesomeandidon'?)

A ring brought me back to reality. I was in an apartment. Onii-san was dead. I could see ghosts. I had spiritual powers.

I am Orihime Inoue, seventeen years old, and I am—was?—in love with Kurosaki Ichigo. Maybe. I'm in class 3-A in Karakura High, and today, I was going to shop for the Tanabata Festival with Tatsuki-chan. Recently, Tatsuki-chan had been training under the Omnitsukido due to her increasing spiritual powers. Pretty soon, I think she'll surpass me. Maybe that was why I didn't wear my Onii-san's clips anymore—I had no more need of them now. Aizen was defeated. Kurosaki-kun and my friends were safe. Karakura was safe.

I pushed the dismiss button on my cell-phone and yawned. Sparing the silvery blue snowflakes on my dresser another brief glance, I grabbed a towel and headed into the shower. Afterwards, I'd have some ice cream with cheese and red bean paste. I'd go shopping with Tatsuki-chan in Kimono Warehouse and have a perfect day. Pleased with the plan, I nodded happily to myself and started humming the Wahaha song.

(thisismylinedon'tmockitsinceit'sawesomeandidon'?)

A/N: New story. Everyone, go easy! It's our first Ulquiorra and Orihime, and TallerThanThou is not that experienced a writer!

Translations and references: For those who need them

Tentei: the sky lord

Orihime and Hikoboshi: _did_ originally come from China. The Japanese story was inspired by the Weaving Maid and the Cowherd, a popular folk tale.

Onii-san: Brother

Amanogawa: Milky Way

Wahaha Song: a song sang by Orihime's favorite artist. She used to sing it on do-re-mi's but then she couldn't decide on "Do" Dokuro-dan (Skull Gang) or the Doburoku (unrefined sake), she switched to singing it on fu's, fo's, and fon's. For more details, look to bleach Chapter 425.

Omnitsukido: think of them as stealthy ninjas that faithfully report to Soi Fong Taicho.

The Tanabata Song:

_Sasa no ha sara-sara_

_Nokiba ni yureru_

_Ohoshi-sama kira-kira_

_Kingin sunago_

Translation:

The bamboo leaves rustle

Shaking away in the eaves

The stars twinkle;

Gold and silver grains of sand

The date of the festival is never on the seventh of the seventh; the date is on the seventh day of the seventh lunar month, causing it to be in August.


	2. Shopping

**Tatsuki:**

As I tried on yukata after yukata, I'm reminded of the festival we had shortly after Kuchiki-san was carted off to Seireitei for execution. For a moment, I looked around the store, fully expecting for a flash of spiky shoulder-length hair, a flash of violet eyes—anything. She'd told us after Ichigo's lingering powers finally vanished that she wouldn't hang around, something she'd made us promise not to tell the carrot. I figured he knew anyways from the constant sadness in his eyes. Speaking of…I glanced anxiously at Orihime.

She'd been off lately. She still hummed her theme song, whatever it was called, still did her face gags, she still skipped, and she was still ditzy. She even made top scores, managing to beat Ishida, whom I suspected was behind due to the ever increasing amount of Hollows. A thump enthused as my best friend fell face first on the carpeted floor of Kimono Warehouse. With a rueful grin, I helped her up. Even her head was still a low-grade diamond.

Yet it was _different_ somehow, hanging out with her like this. And for some reason, I didn't think the only cause was my increasing Reiastu that was beginning to overshadow hers, nor did I presume it was the many months of fighting Hollows she'd been subjected to. My fingernails dug in the fabric of the yukata that Orihime had unceremoniously thrust into my hands.

She'd been off ever since Hueco Mundo.

"Miss, you have to pay for property damage you know!" the cashier admonished. I smiled as winningly as I could and hung the yukata back up.

"Sorry!" The woman nodded approvingly and I moved on to the next rack, not bothering to pay attention to the multicolored fabrics before my eyes. In the end, it would be Orihime who did the choosing.

I allowed myself to sink into silence as Orihime held up yukata after yukata. Perhaps it had something to do with aforementioned carrot. Just as I thought I was onto something, my Orihime's-Up-To-No-Good senses tingled and my eyes snapped up to be greeted with a horror beyond the remaining Arrancar I had helped Soi Fong-Taicho hunt down.

_Mickey Mouse _

He was a cartoon character I held a strange aversion to ever since Chizuru had kindly introduced me to a certain song. (It went like: Oh Mickey you're so fine—need I elaborate?)

Of course, Orihime knew that—which was probably why she'd picked up the yukata in the first place. The thing is, as I'm only 5'1", I sometimes had to delve into the kid's section to find yukatas that were my size as I didn't have the cantaloupes that Orihime called breasts. This particular yukata was completely pink except for the back where the image of Mickey Mouse was imprinted. Sighing, I marched over and put it back on the rack.

"I'm choosing this year," I announced. And then the store fell silent as I realized I'd breeched our long standing tradition. Part of the tradition was because Sora, Orihime's now deceased brother, had always let her choose. I'd filled that hole in Orihime's life, so now I let her choose—or something like that. But she made no objection as I selected the dark green yukata I'd been clawing earlier. My eyebrows furrowed.

Maybe it wasn't her that changed—we'd both changed. Over the course of the months I liked to call Hell, we'd…matured. It was like I was facing my best friend, but not my best friend.

An awkward silence fell between us as I glanced at my watch.

"Let's go meet up with Ichigo," I said at last, waiting for Orihime's eyes to light up.

They didn't. Instead, they remained the dull, confused grey that had taken over since my sudden announcement. Or was it before that? Was she in inner turmoil even before that? Could I have missed something vital?

_No_

"H-hai," she chirped. We set off at a slow pace towards the Town Square which seemed to bring back memories to both of us for we constantly stopped at random sites. ("Look, Tatsuki-chan! Here's were we used to eat ice cream!" or "Orihime, isn't here where I used to teach you karate?")

Yet as I watched her retreating back as she rushed to greet Ichigo and Chad, I couldn't help but feel like a mother who'd lost her daughter to the world. The little girl that I'd protected from those skanks seven years ago was no longer there, and she was no longer classified as Tatsuki's best friend.

_She didn't even wear her hair clips anymore_, I realized. _Her eyes light up when Ichigo talks to her, but she's also uncertain about something_.

And just like that, I realized I didn't know her, this strange woman who'd usurped Orihime from my life.

She wasn't my best friend. I wasn't hers.

We'd changed.

A/N: Kind of angsty here, but please bear with us. We must set the story.


	3. One Year Ago

**Chad**

I watched as my friends ordered their ice cream in silence. The cover of a normal life did not suit them, because I could tell they were acting. What bad actors they were, Ichigo staring off into space, Inoue's eyebrows scrunched, and Tatsuki's fists clenched.

I looked at my left hand. It had been a long time since it was activated. As if cued, a haunting scream echoed across the square. Tatsuki and Inoue exchanged alarmed glances, and Ichigo was unaware of the danger we had been put in. Perhaps he could still sense _something_ was wrong, because he narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

We didn't have to worry though—Uryuu was already using Hirenkyaku to get to the Hollow. I relaxed and sat down on one of the plastic chairs the ice cream stand provided.

Another shriek informed me that the Hollow had been dispatched. Uryuu worked faster than Ichigo ever had, probably because he didn't rush in swinging a sword the same height as him. We used to call it the Ichigo-Complex, rushing in without thinking, having to save everyone. The ironic twist of fate was that we were now protecting _him_.

"Chad."

"Ichigo?"

"Was that—never mind."

Despite loosing his powers, Ichigo could still feel a tingle whenever the dearly departed (or not so dear) were near. We never spoke about it, preferring to let Uryuu deal with the Hollows that the Shinigami assigned to Karakura missed. From what the Quincy said, he wasn't a very competent Shinigami, therefore leaving Uryuu the job of constantly skipping out to kill Hollows.

I think he enjoyed the job; it gave him something to lord over the Shinigami, though Ichigo constantly warned him not to overdo it and cause an imbalance in the living and the dead.

A year ago, I would have told him not to worry.

Twelve months later, I couldn't even tell him to let Uryuu be. It would only be another painful reminder of the world he was no long a part of.

So we didn't speak of the times when Tatsuki vanished to train her skill with either Yoruichi-san or Soi Fong-Taicho (which Soi Fong-Taicho said was quite like Shunko), or the times when Inoue stared for long periods of time at snowflake patterns, or when Mizuiro and Keigo complained of lack of sleep (they'd been training too), and especially not Ichigo's sister.

Karin had been seen easily taking down Hollows with only martial arts and a worn down soccer ball. Not to mention the days when she too, vanished to train.

It was a whole world that Ichigo couldn't be a part of now.

Interaction between Shinigami and the 'Ryoka' was at all time high. Random 'teenagers' and their sensei would arrive to take notes on the Human World.

In all of this, I had no place.

The thing I fought for remained, as well as the power to do so. But there really was no need anymore.

"Chad, pass the ketchup," Ichigo said. Wordlessly, I complied.

"Oh, speaking of," Inoue said, "did you like the bread? Did I bring too much? Oh no, what if I didn't leave enough for—"

"Orihime, it's fine," Tatsuki cut in. She was different too. A year ago, she'd have listened dutifully like a mother.

"Right, Tatsuki-chan! We were wondering if you'd meet up at the festival with us, Sado-kun, Kurosaki-kun!"

I watched silently as Inoue waved her arms spastically. Ichigo showed no sign of comprehension.

He was still looking.

"Kurosaki-kun?"

Inoue knew it too, because her face fell.

"Y-yeah," Ichigo said.

Just like that, we fell into the silence that had never plagued us before, the group of friends thrown together by a necessity for survival.

One year ago, Rukia was still here.

One year ago, my abuelo would have been proud.

A/N: Sorry! Don't hate us; it's REALLY hard to write long chapters. Especially in Chad's POV, because, well, he's Chad. Anyways, this was a definite challenge; that's why it took so long.


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